All Chapters of Pen & Passion: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The air outside was sharp, heavy with the scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen. My chest felt tight as I stepped onto the porch, half-hoping, half-dreading that I’d still see one of them.I thought Joaquin had left. I’d heard a car earlier and the sound of tires fading down the street. Javier, I assumed, had gone the other way. Maybe that was for the best.But when I turned the corner, both of them were there.They stood a few feet apart on the cracked pavement, the distance between them pulsing with tension. Neither moved, neither blinked. The way they stared at each other—it wasn’t just anger. It was everything they’d never said, years of bitterness waiting to break loose.I froze. My breath caught in my throat.Joaquin’s voice cut through the quiet first. Calm. Cold. “You still can’t stand to lose, can you?”Javier’s tone matched his, low and edged. “Depends on what game you think we’re playing.”“This isn’t a game,” Joaquin said tightly. “It’s about her.”“Yeah,” Javier muttered. “

The apartment had finally learned how to be quiet again.After a week at Jessy’s, the walls didn’t feel so sharp when I came back. She refused to leave me alone for the first few days—set up her laptop beside mine, cooked enough food for an army, filled the silence with random stories until the ache in my chest began to soften.Now we both worked here, side by side. Two writers, two screens, one long stretch of healing disguised as productivity.I occasionally helped Joaquin but I was politely honest with him through work email that I need space and he acknowledged it with “Noted with thanks.”It had been months since I’d last touched the draft of my new manuscript, but my hands remembered the rhythm. Letters turned into words, words into something like purpose. Jessy said work was the best kind of therapy.Maybe she was right.The afternoon light poured through the window, warm against the scattered pages on my desk. My phone buzzed every now and then—emails, messages, deadlines—but I

His fingers were steady as they folded around mine—warm, familiar, and impossibly careful. The carousel’s tune played softly in the background, a lullaby of old laughter and forgotten promises.We stepped closer to the platform. The lights spun lazily, painting Joaquin’s face in gold and rose as he helped me up the small step. The moment felt weightless, like stepping back into something we’d lost but hadn’t yet buried.The wooden horses glistened under the lights, their chipped paint somehow charming instead of broken. I climbed onto one, laughing quietly. “This feels ridiculous.”“Everything worth remembering usually does,” he said, settling onto the horse beside me.The carousel began to move. Slow at first, then steady, the air brushing against us with each turn.For a few moments, we just watched the lights blur together. It was almost peaceful, like being trapped inside a dream we both knew would end too soon.“I still remember the last time we were here,” I said. “You were try

The morning after the theme park felt softer than I expected.The rain had left everything washed clean, The windows streaked, the streets outside silver and quiet. Jessy had already gone out to run errands, leaving a note on the counter.“Breakfast’s in the fridge. Don’t overthink.”I smiled faintly at that, then poured myself coffee and sat by the window. The silence felt heavier than usual, filled with thoughts I hadn’t sorted through yet.Joaquin’s words from last night lingered like echoes.“I want to make it real.”They sat somewhere between comfort and confusion, and I didn’t know which one was winning.I was halfway through my second sip of coffee when the doorbell rang.I frowned. Jessy wasn’t supposed to be back yet. When I opened the door, my breath caught.“Hey,” Javier said quietly.He stood there with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a paper bag that smelled faintly of pastries. His usual sharpness was gone—no smirk, no teasing grin. Just tired eyes and a kind of

A week passed quietly, like the world had decided to give me a break.Days began with coffee and ended with pages. Revisions, notes, manuscripts. I was still working remotely as Joaquin’s editor, and though our exchanges stayed mostly professional, the tone between us had softened.He wasn’t the man who barked orders nonchalantly over the phone anymore. Sometimes, he even asked how I was sleeping. We even made small talk every now and then.Jessy teased me about it, of course. “Boss checking in on your bedtime? That’s suspicious,” she’d say, waving her fork at me.But I didn’t read too much into it. Maybe it was his way of keeping the peace. Maybe it was mine, too.Javier hadn’t called. Not once. And I hadn’t tried to reach him either. His number sat folded in the drawer, the paper worn from where my thumb brushed it whenever I opened it to take a pen.Some part of me wanted to call, just to hear his voice. The rest of me knew better.***It was Friday night when the three of us, Jessy